The Value of Life
by Arcboundwriter
Summary: As a new Warforged (an artificial warrior) is created and prepared for war, it (or he) must try to understand the confusing nature of his "life", and figure out how to respond to it. Loosely based on D&D's Eberron setting, though no previous knowledge is necessary.
1. Creation

The Value of Life

Creation.

I feel a sudden jolt, and my eyes open. The sudden light blinds my eyes. Light. Eyes. How do I know these words? Feel… I can feel myself…existing. How do I feel these things? What is their purpose? What is my purpose?

As the light swiftly becomes tolerable, I begin to see more of my environment. The room is small, with only one exit at the far end. I am… curious. What is this place? Why am I here? What am I to do?

A voice calls out, quickly becoming audible. "Warforged Unit 994-Cy AN-546, please respond."

AN-546. That is my name. Regiment AN. Batch forty-two. Unit thirteen.

In my hollow, metallic voice, I respond, "Unit AN-546 active and fully operational." I can see that the walls are adorned with weapons, whose names and purposes I somehow know. In front of me is a person with short, black hair, clothed in white garments. He is smaller than me, but radiates an aura of superiority and knowledge.

He must be my commander. My leader. The person who will instruct me and give me purpose.

The commander is writing on a piece of parchment. "Vocal skills properly functioning. AN-546, stand on that pad." He gestures to a metal square to my left, and I rise from the table where I was – Born? Created? – and move to stand on it. "Motor skills properly functioning." He reads a number near the base of the square. "Height: five feet eleven inches. Weight: 285 pounds. Smaller than the standard model, but still in fine condition."

As the commander writes, I survey my body structure. I have two arms, with three fingers on each. I have two legs. I am made up of wood, stone, and metal, similar to the room itself. I am not wearing garments. I look back at my commander, who is both similar and unlike me, and I wait for him to give me orders.

I am different. Why am I different? What is my purpose?

The commander finishes writing, and turns to face me. His mouth is curved downwards, and his eyes are narrowed. "AN-546, do you know what you are?"

I do not. "No."

He exhales, and he briefly looks upward. "You are the latest addition to Project Warforged, an ongoing project intended to reduce the number of our human casualties by replacing able-bodied men with more expendable artificial constructs. Over the past thirty years, we have been developing this project, perfecting you automatons for warfare."  
"You are intelligent enough to adapt to the chaos of combat, but lack the judgement-affecting emotions of humans. You are designed for war; your purpose is to carry out your commands, without hesitation, objection, or remorse."

The commander curves his mouth upwards into an expression I cannot do. "AN-546, do you understand your purpose?"

My purpose. I have a purpose. It is good to have a purpose, to be useful. "Yes, commander."

The commander's voice becomes lower, and his mouth is now curved downwards. "I am not your commander. I am your supervisor, and you will address me as "sir". Is that understood?"

So he is not my commander. He is called Sir. I understand. "Yes, Sir."

Sir continues speaking. "Good. Normally, you would be assigned a specialized field of expertise and be trained for the next few months in that proficiency. However, the council has ordered that every thirteenth unit be subject to experimentation..." Sir looks at his papers again. His eyes suddenly widen, but quickly narrow again, his mouth curving down even further. '"For experiment 546, subject will choose the field of specialization!?'" He turns away, and starts speaking quietly to himself. "Cross-eyed fools believe a simple machine can think for itself…"

A machine is a mindless tool. But if I am to choose my specialization, then I am not mindless. I am confused.

He turns back to me. "Fine. Follow me, AN-546." He walks out the door, and I slowly follow him. We walk into a strange room that has only two walls. Each wall is covered with doors as far as I can see. But I cannot look for long; Sir is walking through another door marked with the word "Armory", and I quickly follow him into the new room.

This room is filled with hundreds of weapons. I see rapiers, longswords, scimitars, spears, javelins, halberds, and countless other weapons whose names I somehow know, yet do not know how to use. My mind is now filled with questions. How does a sling work? How do you hold a spear? How–  
"AN-546." The noise surprises me, and I turn to face Sir. "As per experiment 546, you will now 'choose' your weapon, if you can."

The weapon I choose will determine my purpose. The weapon's usefulness will determine my usefulness. I survey the room, looking for something to help me choose. I count over twenty-five different swords, axes, and spears, each of varying length and shape. Each one is probably useful in a particular way, but no more useful than any other. I don't know what to choose…

Among the different weapons, I see a small, dusty shelf, with a dark brown book. The pages are light brown, and it is impossible to read the tiny words written on the front.

Sir addresses me again, his voice in a hollow tone. "We haven't got all day, AN-546…"

I make my choice. Books contain information. And no matter the situation, information is always useful. It is not a weapon, but to me, the information that book may contain is more valuable than any protection a sword would give me.

I reach out and grasp the book. Sir's eyebrows raise, and he begins to write again.

-To be continued-

Seeing as this is my first story to put on , I decided to input one I previously did for a school project. It is vaguely based in the D&D: Eberron Setting, a setting that is owned by Wizards of the Coast, and not by me.  
Hope you enjoy, and please leave a review or PM me to tell me what you thought of it!


	2. Introduction

Administrator: _Doctor Rimon Nebun_

Subject: _Warforged Unit 994-Cy AN-546_

Year: _994 YK_

Overall Situation: _Neutral_

Additional Notes:

_Subject has completed part one of Test 546, and has deigned to not choose a proper weapon. Subject may become uncooperative in the future, but currently remains subservient. As per test protocol, subject will refine its expertise with its "weapon" with an available veteran. See file "Captain William Hoffman." Honorable Discharge from main forces. Reason of discharge: forearm injury (dismemberment), received during the Battle of Angwar Keep (TH-992-23). Training scheduled to commence in approximately two hours._

. . . . . . . . . .

Inside the dimly lit room, I am reading the book. My book. It is labeled "_Tactics and Strategy: Training in the Art of War_". It teaches me the planning that I will need to fight. To fulfill my purpose.

The wall hour-glass turns. I must now report to Sir for my first day of training. I reluctantly close my book. I feel… disappointed, for I cannot continue reading.

I exit the small room, and march down the hall to the door labeled "Battle Simulation and Training - Room D." The room I enter is empty, save for Sir, another man with only one arm, and another me.

No, not another me. Another Warforged. He looks identical to me, but is taller, wider, and is covered in battle-scars, both large and small. His right eye is unlit and unmoving, covered by a particularly deep scar.

Sir turns to face me. "AN-546, this is Captain William Hoffman, and Warforged Unit AC-731. Today, they will be instructing you in basic military knowledge."

Captain Hoffman is tall and broad-shouldered, and his face is covered in a wide grin. "Doctor Nebun, I told you to call me Wil, and address Bastion here–" He gestures to the one-eyed Warforged. "–by his properly given name."  
I am surprised at "Wil's" behavior. He has the same commanding aura like Sir, but is far less … stiff. And the other Warforged has a name... How curious. And confusing.

Sir rolls his eyes, and turns to me. "AN-546, while Captain Hoffman may be slightly unique, he has seen a great deal of combat, and knows far more than you ever will. You will follow all of his instructions without hesitation. Do you understand?"

"Understood, Sir."

"Excellent. Captain Hoffman, the subject is under your care now." Sir leaves the hall. As he leaves, Captain Hoffman turns to me. "So you must be experiment 546. Warforged Unit–" He pulls out a piece of paper and looks at it. "–994-CY-AN-546. That's a long name. I think I'll call you 'rookie', instead."

I am surprised. "Rookie, Captain Hoffman?"

"Yeah, it's what I call recruits who can't tell a longbow from a crossbow. But it's a nickname that'll suit you, for now."

I think I understand. "Understood, Captain Hoffman. I am Rookie."

Captain Hoffman's expression changes to one of surprise. "What? No, no. First off, you can call me Wil. Second off, that's not how you're supposed to get a nickname.

I am very confused. "Then why is AC-731 called Bastion?"

The low, grinding voice of Bastion startles me. "I am called Bastion because that is what my comrades named me. During one of my first battles, I held the line when most others had retreated."

Wil continues. "When our human soldiers panicked, Bastion helped hold the line until I could rally our troops. We were victorious that day because of him. He may have lost an eye in that fight, but he gained an identity that day; our company's protector."

I understand. A name comes with identity. "So I will receive my name when I have found my specific purpose?"

Wil nods. "At least, that's the way we named Warforged in my company. It helps to remember which each unit was good at. In a war like this, it's important that you know your comrades as well as you know yourself. After all, they're the ones who watch your back."

I am now interested in hearing more about the war I will soon fight in. "Tell me more about this war."

Wil turns back to me. "We should be getting on to our lesson, but for now, I'll spare you the basics. You're in Cyre. For over a hundred years, most of the nations, including us, have been at war. It is normally the duty of Warforged to defend Cyre at all costs. However, that is not _your_ duty."

I am confused. "Why would it not be my duty?"

"Because," replies the unexpected voice of Bastion, "Those are the regular orders. You," he points at me, "are an experiment."

Wil continues. "Unlike most Warforged, you are allowed to choose what you want to do. You can decide how long you will train for, or what unit you'll be assigned to, or even what you want to be called. So what'll it be?"

I am shocked by this power. I can do anything. I can ignore anything. I can have whatever I want!

But what do I want? All I want is to read my book. To learn. What I am doing anyway.

My response is slow, but determined. "I want to learn. Perhaps when I know more, I will follow my own path. But for now, I will wait, and learn."

Wil looks surprised at first, but quickly resumes his smile. "One of the most important things in battle is knowing whether it is better to strike quickly, or to wait patiently. It's a tough lesson to learn, for humans and Warforged alike. Well, congratulations on getting a head start in learning it, rookie. I'm sure you'll go far." He hits me on the back with his only arm, while Bastion silently imitates his smile.

I am… pleased, that I have chosen well. Pleased that I am useful.

Wil is beginning to speak. "All right, now that we know a little bit about each other, it's time to officially begin lesson one: hand-to-hand combat."  
I am pleased to listen to him, to learn.

-to be continued-

This chapter was once completely different, and I apologize to those who liked the original. I felt that I needed to have a bit of an actual plot.  
For anyone new who has decided that this story is interesting enough to read this far, thank you! I hope that I can continue to entertain you in the future (or just stave off your boredom)


	3. Learning

It has been twenty-three days since my creation. Every "day" has been a repeat of the same cycle. First, I read my book, or one of the other books Sir has given me. Then, I go to the training grounds to spar with Bastion and Wil. Then, I do a small military exercise with Wil, which he calls "chess". Finally, I report to Sir for a daily exam and "discussion". Then I go to read my books, and my cycle begins again.

Today, I am in a "discussion" with Sir. He is sitting in the only chair, and is with his parchment, as usual. Today, he is teaching me about battlefield decisions.

"While your commander may give you orders, you are expected to make decisions in the heat of battle by yourself. Human soldiers–," He makes a small sound, "–have often been shown to panic, and make foolish or ill-informed decisions. You–" He points at me. "–are not. You are to accurately assess the situation, and make decisions that award the most value for your force." He leans back in his chair. "Do you have any questions, construct?"

Value. Value is how precious something is. When I battle in chess, the knight has more value than the pawn. But in actual combat, what should I value the most?

"Sir, what has the most value?"  
Sir's eyebrows raise."What did you just say?"  
"Sir, what has the most value? What is the most important thing on the battlefield?"  
Sir pauses for a second, then slowly responds. "That's... a good question. One without a very good answer." He shifts in his seat, and continues normally. "But usually, protecting your army's resources is one of the most important goals." He begins writing on his parchment.

"Than what is the most important resource, Sir?"

Again, Sir shifts in his seat for a while before answering. "People. Supplies and buildings are valuable, but without people to use them, they are worthless. A person can adapt, and change based on his surroundings. Other resources cannot." He leans back, happy with his answer. "Does that answer your question?"

I understand. The most valuable things are those that can move and change the environment. That makes sense.

"Yes, Sir. The most valuable things on a battlefield are Warforged, and humans."

"What?" Immediately, I see Sir's face change from pleasant to angry. "No! Absolutely not! Warforged are resources, which humans utilize to achieve victory. You are not, and never will be, as valuable as a human. If your decision is ever between saving the life of a human ally or keeping your own self-existence, the human is the most important choice." His face returns to its usual expressionless form, but his voice still sounds like he is angry. "Does _that_ answer your question, _construct_?"

I understand...slightly. No, I do not understand at all. It makes no sense. Why is a Warforged not as valuable as a human? We can do everything they can do, and can learn everything they can learn. I am not as valuable as Sir or Wil because I am inexperienced–but I am less valuable than an inexperienced human, as well?

I am about to ask Sir "why?", when the door opens. A human dressed like Sir appears. "Doctor Nebun, sir?" He looks younger than either Sir or Wil. He turns to face Sir. "The council would like to speak with you. They say it's urgent." For a brief moment, Sir looks completely surprised. Then he returns to his normal, emotionless self. "Yes, of course. Thank you."

He moves to leave the room, when the young man stops and asks him, "What of the Warforged, doctor?" Sir rolls his eyes and coughs. "As the council has told me _several_ times before, AN-546 is allowed to choose what it wants do do, whatever that is. You may watch it, if it so pleases you." Sir leaves, while the young man stays by the door.

I am surprised. This has never happened before. I turn to the young man, and ask him, "Where did Sir go?"

The man jumps, and starts shaking. "W-what? Who?"

I point at the door. "Sir. The man who just left."

The man gives a small chuckle, but his face remains pale. "Oh, uh, you m-must mean Doctor Nebun. He, uh, left to speak with t-the council. T-they said something about a top-secret project of some sort."

I am curious. What "project" would be so important to Sir, that he would leave me? I may be a resource, but I am still a valuable resource. What sort of project is more important than my training?

I move closer to the young man. "What is this project?", I ask. The young man slowly edges out the door. "I-I don't know anything about it, except its name. I-I think it's called Project Reclaimer, or something like that. That's all I know, I swear!" He turns, and runs down the hallway.

As I watch him go, I wonder why he left. Did he have something to do? Perhaps he had to be somewhere.

No, I know that neither is true. He fled because he was...afraid. The look in his eyes was one of fear. He looked at me, and saw an artificial warrior designed for fighting. He panicked.

So why is he more valuable than me? Why is a human automatically more valuable than a Warforged. We are as good as humans in every way. We can adapt to and change our situation, just like any human. We can do things, and they can do things. I don't understand. What is it that sets us apart?

-to be continued-

It's been a while since I wrote for this story; so I'll probably forget some things. I personally think that this will be the weakest chapter so far, as it's tying some old writing into an actual story, but only time will tell. Thank you for reading!


	4. Confliction

Administrator: _Doctor Rimon Nebun_

Subject: _Warforged Unit 994-Cy AN-546_

Year: _994 YK_

Overall Situation: _Negative_

Additional Notes:

_At the council's insistence, I am stepping down from official work on Unit 994-Cy AN-546 to help on Project R******** (see folder P-CY-993-34). Subject shall continue to be trained by Captain Hoffman, while I remain as a supervisor._

_Subject continues to train, but has begun to display erratic behavior in the past three sessions. Captain Hoffman has requested a brief pause in the testing to help acclimate the subject. His request has been accepted. There will be no training today._

. . . . . . . . . .

As I enter the training room, I look about. I do not see Wil or Bastion. I see only some rope scattered on the floor. It will probably be used in today's lesson.

Lesson...

I am still...frustrated with my last lesson with Sir. It has bothering me for several days, yet I do not know why. Why is any human, even a crippled infant, more valuable than me? I have no answer to this question, yet it still bothers me. It has also become harder to train with Wil. My mind is busy trying to answer–

THUD. A weapon strikes me in the back, and I fall to the floor. All thoughts vanish from my mind except those of combat. Immediately, I roll and come up on one leg, facing my attacker. I see Wil, standing behind me with his normal smile, holding a club in his only hand.

"Surprise, rookie! An enemy isn't going to let you pick your fights! Let's see what you've got!"  
I immediately scan the room, looking for Bastion. I see him, hanging from the ceiling, waiting to ambush. I pretend to not notice him, and charge Wil. As I run, I seize some of the rope laying on the ground.  
"You're using your surroundings. Good!" Wil remarks as he swings with his club. I hold the rope between my hands and use it to block his swing. He swiftly backs up, and I use my advantage to back him towards the wall.  
A ground-shaking tremor tells me that Bastion has joined the fight behind me. I roll to the right, the side of his missing eye, as something large swings at where I was standing. Wil dodges to the left, putting Bastion directly between him and me.  
For a moment, Bastion cannot see me. I use that moment to charge him, catching him off-guard and knocking him down. I move over him to attack Wil–

THUD. Wil has thrown his club at me. As I recover from his unexpected tactic, he draws a short sword, and slashes at me. I block with my rope, but the blade cuts through and hits me in the shoulder. The edge is dull, but it still leaves a mark.  
I throw the useless rope at Wil, and as he struggles, I punch him. He manages to avoid my fist, but only barely.

As we face each other on equal footing, Wil lowers his sword, and smiles. "Excellent job, rookie. This session is now over." I lower my fists, and Bastion rises from the ground to stand beside me. The fight has ended as swiftly as it has begun.

"Excellent job, rookie. You kept an open eye during the fight, and more importantly, you kept a clear head. You had complete control over that fight, and I'm proud of you for that."

I feel a sense of pleasure at Wil's compliment.

But Wil continues, his smile gone. "So why haven't you been like this during our other practices? Your swordsmanship has become careless. You've lost the last fifteen games of chess, due to poor planning and bad moves. Even Bastion can see you're struggling with something, and he's only got one eye."  
Bastion speaks. "You failed to hit anything during your last archery practice, despite proceeding to advance level faster than any other Warforged. Something is distracting you."

I am torn between my pride at my recent victory, my frustration at my distraction, and...some new feeling. Shame. Shame for hiding my problem from someone who could help me.

Wil puts his hand on my shoulder. "Look, rookie. I'm not like Nebun. I know you guys can think and feel, just like everyone else. So like everybody else, you need to _communicate_."  
I think about my problem, my unsolved question. Perhaps Wil can help me answer it.

"Wil, why is a human more valuable than a Warforged? I can do everything a human can, yet I am less valuable. Why?"

Wil is surprised by my question, and scratches his head. "Well, I suppose that's because, in a way, you were created to protect people."

I am confused. "I am created for war. I am made to fight without hesitation or remorse. I am not created to protect."

Wil smiles. "Actually, that's not exactly true. Soldiers do not fight to kill. They fight because they believe in a purpose, and are willing to die for it. Warforged have a purpose too, though they have less of a say in it."

I am even more confused. My face must have shown it, because Wil continues: "The purpose of the Warforged is to be able to have cheap, mass-produced soldiers, so fewer people have to actually fight and die on the battlefield. It's no small wonder you should value others above yourself. You were meant to help them."

I understand...slightly. Yet my full question is not answered.

"So I am to save any ally or friendly civilian, no matter the cost? Even at the cost of my self?"

Several minutes pass as Wil remains silent, pondering my question. Finally, he turns to me, and slowly answers. "No, I don't think you should. You can help far more people by living than you can by dying. A soldier who doesn't do his duty is useless, but a dead soldier is useless, too. You have to decide when it is best to risk your life to save another's, or to save yourself to protect others."

Wil's answer makes sense. I understand now. I have more than a purpose. I have a reason to fight. To protect my allies, be they human or Warforged.

I feel... Peaceful. It is strange that understanding war should make me feel this way, but it is still a nice feeling.

"I understand now. Thank you, Wil."  
"Anytime, rookie." Wil hits me on the back, gently. "Now, how'd you like to play a game of chess?"

-to be continued-

I don't claim to know anything about the D&D combat. But I would still greatly appreciate any feedback anyone has. Thanks for reading!


	5. Change

It has been fifty-six days since my creation. In that time, I have trained constantly with Wil and Bastion. They have taught me almost everything I know about war. I have learned how to fight with a sword, how to shoot a crossbow, how to flank and ambush an enemy, how to keep my gear in proper condition, and much more.  
I know my purpose. I have the reason for my purpose. And I have the knowledge I need to achieve that purpose. I am useful, and because I am useful, I am happy.

CLANG.

Today, I am practicing with a simple, yet effective weapon: the quarterstaff.

CLANG. Again, I block his sword with the head of my staff. I shift to the left, where I can use Wil's disability to my advantage. He expects this, and parries my strike.  
"Come on, rookie! You can do better than that!" He presses towards me, where I cannot swing my large weapon as fast. "Never let your opponent get within your weapon range," He remarks as he lands a solid blow on my torso, "The longer the weapon, the more distance you need to use it."

I respond by charging, catching him off-guard and forcing him back. He manages to land a hit, but it does not enough to damage me much. I now have the the space I need, and I begin to swing my quarterstaff faster. I land a hit to his left side, but it is not enough to stun him. He dodges my second strike, and proceeds to attack me from the side.

For a long time, our fight continues this way, neither of us gaining a clear victory. Wil has much more experience than me, but I am faster, and have more control over my weapon. After what seems to be hours, Bastion steps between us. "The session is now over," he says. "The match is a draw."

Wil sheathes his sword, and wipes water from his face. "Excellent job, rookie. You're a fast learner. It took me weeks to properly use a quarterstaff. Makes me wish I could still use one."  
I am honored by his praise. "It is because I have a good teacher who is always there to answer my questions."  
I must have said the wrong thing. Wil smiles, but his eyes seem different. They are filled with an emotion... unhappiness? He speaks again, but in a lower tone. "Well... I'm glad you think that."  
He is unhappy with something. But what? What is there to be unhappy about?

His smile fades. For a while, he stands there, thinking, until he finally decides to talk. "Listen, rookie. There's something you should know. You'd have probably found this out later from Nebun, but I think it would be best to tell you now, in person."

He takes a deep breath. "I've been asked to return to active service. An army has entered our western territories, and they need every man they can get. Bastion and I..." He pauses. "...Bastion and I wiIl be heading out in about a week. We're leaving."

...

In a single moment, my life has changed forever. My teachers, who have taught me everything I know about my life, my purpose, are leaving me. How do I respond to this? I feel a new emotion. Sadness. Should I respond with sadness? Or is this feeling like frustration, and should be avoided? I don't know.  
I have several questions, so I decide to ask them. "Why are you leaving me? What will happen to you? What will happen to me? Will I ever– "

Wil interrupts my sentence. "Listen, rookie. I know this is a lot to handle, but let me explain. Maybe it'll help you understand why I have to go."  
"In recent years, Cyre's been slowly losing men. Every generation, more new troops are needed, and the population becomes a little more unstable. That's why we have Warforged – it helps steady the population. But an invading army–" He shakes his head. "Countless recruits will enlist to protect their home. Even if we win, the population might not recover."  
"I'm about as useful as a rookie right now. But if by serving my nation one last time, I can help keep it alive a while longer, I will do it."

I have no more questions. I understand why he must go. He has a duty to protect his country and its people, and he will defend it to the end of his life. In a way, he is like a Warforged. I respect that.  
But... one question remains. I ask it again: "What will happen to me?"

He shakes his head. "That's something else I'm worried about. You're a great fighter, but you're still technically an experiment, and you require a human supervisor. You may have excelled at all your training, but without a human supervisor, there's no telling what'll happen to you."

The room is silent for a while, until Bastion speaks. "However, it is most likely that you will stay here until you are found a new trainer."

"Bastion's got a point," says Wil. "You shouldn't worry about it; you'll be fine." He stretches his arm, and inhales deeply. "Anyway, it's time for you to read your books, and it's time for me to get some rest. Not everyone can go without sleeping like constructs. Goodnight, rookie." He leaves the practice hall, and Bastion begins clearing the floor.

I acknowledge his order, and begin the walk back to my quarters. Yet my question still remains: What will happen to me?

Will I go to war? Or will I continue training with someone else? Perhaps I will be ignored like a piece of unused equipment.  
No. I must not think like that. I am a valuable resource. I am not expendable. Am I? I don't know. How will I know what will happen to me? Who can give me answers?

I know of two humans, Wil and Sir. Wil does not know, but Sir might. He was my supervisor, and probably knows what is going to happen.

I have decided: I will go see Sir.

-to be continued-

I know this isn't how D&D combat works, individual or large-scale. But then again, this isn't about D it's about a setting in which D&D takes place, one with a very unique history.

As usual, thank you for reading this far. Please review or PM me, I'd love to hear feedback, even if it's critical.


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